


It's Strange

by Jinx_The_Wicked, mishalki



Category: South Park
Genre: Broken Christophe, Child Abuse, Daddy Issues, Eye Trauma, Father/Son Incest, Hallucinations, Headcanon, Hurt No Comfort, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Multiple Personalities, Night Terrors, Panic Attacks, Past Child Abuse, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Self-Harm, Strained Relationships, This Is An Idea That A Friend And I Came Up With
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-14
Updated: 2016-07-14
Packaged: 2018-07-24 00:49:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7486845
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jinx_The_Wicked/pseuds/Jinx_The_Wicked, https://archiveofourown.org/users/mishalki/pseuds/mishalki
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Another night terror wakes Christophe from his sleep</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Fall

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was used to test the headcanon Jinx and I came up with. If I could give a summary in the simplest of terms it's pretty much just...Christophe had a shitty father who abused him and it drove the poor kid to his mercenary occupation and his unstable state of mind
> 
> This is just a test run so we're still working out some flaws. We may make make a multichapter with this headcanon

  _Child abuse. Post traumatic stress disorder. Multiple personality disorder. Self harm. These are things that a child should never have to grow up with. Sadly, that's the unfortunate luck Christophe DeLorne ended up with. His father had abused him as a kid; sexually, physically, mentally. Is was something he never deserved._

_Then came the stress. The stress of knowing what this man did was awful; something that he'll always have to remember when he looks in a mirror. Soon it became too much. He just wanted to move on. That's where the multiple personality disorder showed._

_This created his "friend," The Mole. Chris hated sharing a mind with that...illusion. He also hated how badly The Mole treated people. He was a revenge fueled "demon;" killing whoever he got his hands on. That was the brunet's breaking point._

_He started self-harm; any kind. He wanted to get rid of pain; though it only added more pain. Christophe's friend, Gregory, had helped him through it. However, he couldn't fix the other problems. Now they're together, 7 years of being together and still building up trust._

* * *

 

 Christophe awoke with a start, drenched in a cold sweat. His hair stuck out in odd angles and he shook like he was stuck in the snow. He still felt the feeling of hands wrapped around his throat. "Father, I didn't mean to; I'm sorry." His voice was pitched as he spoke. He shut his eyes and leaned forward, covering his head with his hands.

 There was a slight shift on the bed, as Gregory turned. He heard talking outside of his dream and he slowly woke up. Opening his eyes slightly, Greg tried to get adjusted to the feeling of being awake. His eyes then landed on Chris and the state he was in. This state scared Greg to no end and he sat up quickly, putting a hand on the tanner male's back. "Chris, are you alright? What happened?" His voice was laced in concern and worry. His eyes held panic in them; scared that Chris was hurt or anything worse.

 The brunet shook his head and rocked back and forth, curling in tighter on himself. He felt a hand on his back and started tearing up. "Please don't hit me anymore. It was an honest mistake; it won't happen again." The mercenary was terrified. The only thing he had ever feared in his life was his dad and he didn't want to be beaten again. He wouldn't be able to take it.

 Greg's eyes had widened in surprised. Chris thought he was his father? And worse, that he was going to hit him? "Hey hey, shhh, it's okay. It was just a dream." He tried to calm the other male as best as he could. He hated that he was in pain, well, mostly mental pain instead of physical. Either way, it was something Gregory didn't like to see. His hand slide up to Chris's shoulder and gave it a light squeeze. He thought it was the thing to do, as that's what the usual reaction is to reassure someone. At least, it was the normal reaction.

 The pressure is what made him lose it. The Frenchman had instinctively swung back his arm, grabbing the first solid thing it found. It happened to be Gregory's arm.

 He twisted it and pushed down, putting his full weight onto the limb. "I'm not having you hurt me anymore." He grit his teeth. He felt numb to everything around him. He felt all traces of fear and anxiety melt away. His green eyes were like ice as he looked down. This wasn't Christophe anymore. It was _him._

 Physical pain. Absolute, horrid pain shot through Gregory's arm. Not even just his arm; his shoulder, back, chest, wrists, everything. He felt Chris putting all his weight into this. Not saying he's heavy - pretty light to Greg actually - but he sure as hell wasn't a feather either. The strength he was putting into it didn't help. Gregory had yelped out in pain, baring on his teeth "O-Ow!! Chris, get off! It hurts!" He closed his eyes, swearing tears were forming. Pain, panic, all from his lover. What was he to do?

 The Mole glared down at the man crying out for mercy below him. The man that had so wrongfully treated him all these years was finally at his will. He could've swore he killed him though; before this. He clearly remembered the cracking of bones and the warm splatter of blood as it landed on his skin and clothes. The screams of terror and agony he remembered best. That was only two weeks ago. Maybe the fucker was able to crawl away and get help after he left. Tch, he knew he should've buried the body. The name cried out - Chris - meant nothing to Mole.

 Christophe was a broken soul, cracked and torn down from years of stress and endless beatings. He wasn't going to be a punching bag anymore. The Mole was made to kill; kill with no remorse or mercy. Kill for revenge. "Look where we are now _old man._ " Mole spoke with a heavier accent. With more hate. "I never thought this day would come so soon. Are you... _regretting_ what you've done to me yet?" He tightened his hold and grabbed the blond's hair, tugging up.

 Crying out in pain, a huge shock went through his head. "I'm not your father; get the hell off me!" Gregory struggled under the male. Sure, he was bigger and stronger against Chris - but whoever the hell this was - he wasn't against them. Greg used his free arm to reach out. He was desperate for **_something._**  He felt something hard and sharp, he didn't know what, but he grabbed it and swung upwards. Warm liquid dripped down his arm and he felt his heart stop. What the hell did he just do?

 Mole didn't want to let go. He wasn't going to let him slip away, but the pain running through him beat the adrenaline rush. The brunet let out a scream and jolted back, falling from the mattress and onto the wooden floor with a thud. Red blurred his vision in one eye; tears in the other. He reached up with shakey hands to grab the handle of a switch lodged into his eye. "You bastard! You sick fuck!" Mole screeched, yanking the blade from the socket.

 Agony ran through his head and he doubled over, holding his hands over his eye to keep the blood from spilling out. He got hurt again. He wasn't able to save himself. Helplessness washed over the quivering body on the floor and a choked sob left the male.

 Gregory panicked. He just stabbed his lover in the _eye_. _What the hell?_ "Chris!" Greg quickly got down on the floor, keeping his distance. He was scared the Frenchman was going to attack him again. "Chris, I'm so sorry; I didn't mean too! I panicked, I didn't know what to do; I'm so sorry." The Brit reached out for him again. Why the hell is he even trying anymore?

 Christophe's shoulders shook as he gasped, more tears falling from his eye. "D-Don't touch me; don't even l-look at me. I _hate_ you..." He felt sick to his stomach. What had happened? Why would Gregory do this to him? "Just g-get me to the h-hospital."

 The blond felt his heart drop to his stomach. He knew he deserved every single insult that Chris could say, but it still made him feel horrid. Ignoring his first request; Greg picked him up, quickly carrying him out of the room and down to the car. All he wanted to do was get him help.

 Feeling the Brit pick him up sparked a new fire in his stomach. Chris curled his lip and pushed at him. Scratching, hitting, _biting_ even. He attacked the blond, glaring at him with his only eye. "You're _disgusting_ ; I don't want you touching me!" He swung and hit Greg across the face, a bloody hand print showing the impact.

 Greg bared down his teeth. Even helping the brunet, he got hurt like hell, but he wouldn't let it show. Chris was hurt way worse then he was. The slap stung, even burned. "I'm sorry! Look, I'm trying to get you to the hospital; you want to live correct?" Gregory started the car, trying to ignore all his lover's yells and protests. He started driving, ignoring the stinging, bloody print on his cheek. He didn't care that he was over the speed limit; he raced to the hospital, trying not to get caught on his way there.


	2. Aftermath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What's their relationship now?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eh, decided to make it two parts 
> 
> Cause why not?

  _Hours._

 Hours had past and Gregory continued to sit in the hospital waiting room, looking at his folded hands. He didn't deserve to be with Christophe for what he did. He knew that. _Hell,_ Chris even said he hated him. That sentence echoed in his mind.

 Near the adult, a rather ruffed up man looked over at him. He had makeshift bandages wrapped around his torso and shoulder, a few spots of blood staining them. "What happened to you?" He looked over at Gregory, a jaded expression on his bruised face.

 "Uhm...got into a fight with someone and I kind of stabbed him. Had to take him to the hospital." Clearly he left out some big parts. That person being his boyfriend, that it was his eye and his boyfriend had beat the hell out of him. Greg examined the man for a moment and stared back at the door. "What about you?" He barley spared the man a second  however. He was too nervous for Chris to come out and go home with him.

 "Motorcycle accident." He leaned foward a bit, wincing from the movement. "Why was there a fight?" The man's attention was grabbed at this point.

 Greg sighed. _God, this man was nosy._ "Some shit went down and he attacked me," he shrugged, "Guess I deserved it."

 The unnamed male took in the information. "You didn't deserve to get attacked. If you didn't start it that is," he ran his hand through his hair, "If charges are pressed, you can state it was self-defense."

 " _Never._ Never would I do that to this person. I would take the blame in a heart beat." At least that was the truth. He sighed. If Chris **_did_**  press charges then he'd take the blame and say he started it.

 The raven laughed. "You'd be willing to spend _four to five years_ in jail for aggravated assault that you didn't even start?" The male looked away, "That person must mean a lot to you."

 "Mmhmm. A lot." Gregory crossed his arms and leaned back in his seat. His eyes stayed on the door. He might have been nervous as hell, but he wished Christophe would come out already so he could leave.

 "Well good luck, because from what you've told me, he may. I mean stabbing a guy; even I wouldn't do-"

 He was cut off when the sound of footsteps were heard. The padding of bare feet and the thump of posh dress shoes. "I'm not going back with him. Call someone else to get me." An accented male spoke from the hallway.

 Greg groaned slightly, covering his face. That accent was French; he knew that accent from anywhere because he _lived_  with it. The blond knew he fucked up. Chris said he hated him; he doesn't want to go back with him either. He wouldn't blame him if he wanted to break it off and move out...or kick Gregory out. The Brit wouldn't blame him. The feeling of guilt twisted his stomach.

 "I'm sorry but we have no other phone numbers on record." The two stopped in sight. The doctor looked exasperated, like he'd had to say this to the Frenchman before. Christophe, however, looked quite normal. Well...from what Greg could see. His stabbed eye was hidden from view.

 "Just give me a phone and I can call someone else to get me. It's not that hard!" He was getting irritated, his hands trembling by his sides.

 Gregory got up; he was really the only one allowed to take him home. Who else would? He walked over to the two of them nervously. "S-Sorry sir, I'll take him now." Greg lightly grabbed his arm and started pulling him off. He was scared to touch him, even _look_  at him.

 "It's fine; do take care of him. Make sure to change the patch every few days." The doctor nodded and walked off, attending to the man with the motorcycle injuries.

 Chris ripped his arm away, looking at the blond. "Get your hands off me." His tone wasn't mad. It wasn't sad either. Just...devoid of emotion. His green gaze locked onto Greg. There was a patch where his other eye should've been. It was just a socket now.

 Greg looked ahead and nodded. "Sorry sorry..." He avoided his look and continued looking ahead. He felt sad and upset, but also hurt. He didn't mean to but he was being attacked by his own boyfriend or... _ex._ He wasn't sure anymore.

 The shorter male averted to look down, walking past him. "Let's just get home." He kept turning his head to look around whenever he heard a sound. It was weird only having one eye. Chris clenched his fist and pushed open the door, trying to keep tears from falling. He would have to get used to this, but would he ever get used to Greg again? _"He stabbed you. He was out to get you; you can't trust him."_ A voice spoke in his head and he cringed. He hated Mole; _despised_ him.

 "Yeah, let's go..." Greg sighed softly, the feeling of guilt getting more and more harmful. He stared at Chris when the poor, smaller male walked ahead of him. The blond made his way to the car and climbed in, starting it up. He didn't say a word; he knew Chris didn't want to hear it so he stayed silent.

  _"He's just like your father, get him while he's vulnerable."_ Mole continued talking, edging him on. Chris shook his head and stared out the window, watching trees pass. _"Do you want to suffer all over again? Put a stop to it before it happens!"_ The brunet attempted ignoring him, but the voice got more aggressive. _"This is why your father did what he did! You were too weak to fight-"_

 "Shut your damn mouth!" Chris shouted and slammed his hands on the dashboard, his eye wide with a startled look. He was going to go insane.

 Greg jumped and tightened his grip on the steering wheel as he drove. He was paranoid now. Yeah, he caused a lot of this but out of no where Chris attacked him. Greg was scared that at any moment he'd attack him again. At least this time he'd be prepared. He didn't bother asking - for the fact the tan male shouted such a sentence - Gregory figured Christophe wanted some silence.

 _"I'm am just trying to keep you from getting hurt again."_ Mole grumbled and stopped talking, leaving Christophe's thoughts in silence. That was utter bullshit. The Mole was out to ruin him; make him into a killer. And for what? To kill someone who died years ago. He leaned back in his seat and looked at Greg, seeing how tense he was. He stared at him for the rest of the ride home.

 Greg felt Chris's gaze on him which made him more tense. He sped up the car and finally made it home. Home... _horrid_ home. The Brit quickly got out of the car and went inside. He was frightened that Chris was gonna attack him again for stabbing him. Then again; he wouldn't blame him.

 Said male followed slowly after him. He was acting so paranoid. Scared. He didn't like it but he understood it. He was a monster after all; a monster who tried to kill him. However, it still didn't make up for the injury. He didn't deserve to get his eye stabbed out from his head. Maybe Mole was right...Gregory was no different than his father.

 Greg sat on the couch and listen to the door open and close again. The tension in the air was rough; rough and deserved. He stayed silent and looked down at his hands. He wanted to comfort Chris, he really did, but it was clear that Chris didn't want it from him. By this point, the blond honestly waited for the words; _we're over._ He sat in silence, taking the tension has a deserved punishment.

 Footsteps made their way over to the couch. The weight of the furniture shifted when another body joined the guilt ridden Brit. Chris stared down at his feet, distracting himself. He wasn't mad at Gregory, he just felt that lingering emotion of betrayal. His head still pounded from the dull ache and Mole didn't make it any better.

  _"Are you going to say it or not? He attacked you; if you stay in this relationship, it'll be just like father. Cut it off."_ Mole growled. Chris knew he was right, but he didn't want to leave the blond. He knew that - if he did - Gregory would off himself. The guilt would be too much for him. Christophe hated him but...he couldn't let someone else suffer for his mistake.

 Silence remained in the room. Gregory didn't know what to say. Hell, he was scared to say anything. He took silent but deep breaths. Finally he spoke up. His voice was quiet, almost a whisper, and his voice quivered slightly; with fear, guilt, and sorrow. "I, uh...I think you can head up to bed now." He continued to stare at his lap, avoiding eye contact with the Frenchman.

  _"Now damn it!"_ Chris ignored the yelling in his head. His tone was flat, yet calm. "I'm not tired yet; you should though." He wanted to make this work. Them; but he didn't feel it anymore. The spark was gone.

 "I'm...I'm not tired." Greg shrugged slightly. He was but he wasn't going to sleep. If he was going to sleep, he'd have one eye opened to make sure Chris wasn't going to murder him while he tried. He loved Chris, he really did, but now he was terrified of him.

 "Don't lie to me. You know damn well it pisses me off." He looked at him, more relaxed then he should be. Mole was screaming at him to say it; we're over. He wouldn't do it. He wouldn't let him ruin anyone else.

 "I'm not lying." Gregory glanced over at him for a split moment before looking away. Chris looked relaxed but it wasn't changing anything. He knew Chris said not to look at him, so he wouldn't. He wouldn't look at him or touch him like he asked.

 The brunet was getting annoyed. "Greg...don't lie." He still stared at him, a frown crossing his face. Why was the Brit avoiding his gaze? _“Don't touch me; don't even look at me,”_ the sentence ran through his head.

 "Okay, so maybe I just don't want to sleep; yes I'm tired." The blond rested his head on the arm of the furniture, closing his eyes. He knew Chris was getting annoyed and he didn't need that.

 Christophe pulled a blanket from the back of the couch and threw it over the male. "Then take a nap. I'm not going anywhere." He didn't think that sounded reassuring or not. Greg seemed scared just to be around him.

 The younger male took a deep breath and started settling down. His breathing had started going calm and gentle. Minutes later it was clear Gregory had fallen asleep. He didn't want to, but he needed to, he couldn't stop the fact he fell asleep. He was just too tired to stay up.

 Christophe was finally left alone with his thoughts. He leaned back on the couch and stared up at the ceiling, biting his lip. This was his fault. The Frenchman and the Brit could never be the same again; it was ruined. Their trust, their commitment, their faith in each other.

 He reached up to pull the patch off, flinching at the small pinch it left. If he had told Gregory about Mole, he wouldn't be scared of him. Christophe. He traced the socket, his face contorting. Just a hallow socket filled with air.

  _How was any of this going to work? It was almost foreign to him. It was so strange._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading <3

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave kudos and reviews; pointers and tips on how we can improve this idea would be greatly appreciated


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